Cubbing Is A Business Too

Cubbing is a business, too. The business of dealing with that squirming, jumping, eager, active, unpredictable, stubborn, inquisitive, laughing, quarreling, wrestling, fighting, dirty smelly loveably, small edition of manhood known as a boy. He has are affinity for whooping cough, measles, mumps, chicken pox, freckles and missing teeth.

He is a master at tearing up a room, churning up a family, being absent or present at the wrong moments. He frequently rejects the association of the human race for the companionship of chickens, dogs, turtles, snakes, rabbits, alligators and skunks. His questions are beyond the reach of Einstein his answers vague, evasive and unintelligible.

He can be as artful as a fox, a talkative as a parrot, as irritating as a flea, as stubborn as a male. And then at some sacred moment you look into his lighted eyes and see a soul of unlimited dimension -- and you know that here in the eyes of a boy is the beginning shape of a man to come.